Just a day after leaving east yorkshire, and with another day off with loads to enjoy, the prospect of visiting an old friend was too good to pass up. You see, also in november 2017, paula and i made our first art trip to grimley so that i could tickle a female american wigeon that had decided to spend the winter there. Now she's back. And yet, this was caused by the 3rd winter in a row that this particular bird spent real money plotting. I had originally received the report while still in yorkshire, but i had promised myself that i would go and see her. I told paula, and her eyes lit up, " oh, is that alice?" She asked. The paula that you study often gives affectionate names to the birds that we either see or talk about. I told her that it was true, and so she was just as eager as i was to evaluate it again, especially since it was alice the bird that i had put into practice, now i hope she will give me a useful year's tick. Maybe you haven't forgotten the article i wrote detailing our previous vacation in grimley hoping to find a marble duck. This was caused by an eventful trip when paula and i were attacked by wasps, and immediately afterwards your individual webmaster mistakenly took a picture of a eurasian teal, thinking that you were looking at a marble duck. At that time, the bird's origin was unknown, and local bird lovers had a sincere hope that this was a real wild bird, which would make it a first for britain. However, the appearance of a second marble duck soon after it in opposite great malvern eliminated any possibility that the grimley bird would be mistaken for a wild one, so any fuss soon subsided. Then it was hot, like in britain in an age of summer drought. Now it's still before winter, everything is now completely at a different angle. If we started to eat breakfast, a look at the snowball presented a rather gloomy prospect - a strong wind and heavy rain. But the weather forecast suggested that there would be breaks in the showers, so my enthusiasm remained high.... Indeed, i was sure that i would get a few, but two-year-old ticks, because two female smew, which we know as red, were seen in the clifton pits, also in worcestershire, and only within walking distance of grimley. Paula, i and two dogs got into my car just before 9.30 am, and the people set off first down the m42, then off at junction 1, and soon on the a38 birmingham road through part of bromsgrove, past upton warren, any of the most luxurious bird-watching spots in worcestershire, skirting droitwich and holt, before arriving at grimley in about 40-60 minutes. It was originally reported that the american wigeon was invented in the pits of camp lane-the town where we saw the marble duck - but quickly moved to the existing usual favorite spot, the pits on the wagon wheel track, the site where we saw the site in the past year. The wagon wheel pits are kept at the opposite end of the village from the camping pits, and are also completely inaccessible. In the year ended, but this fact was not difficult, because the good dog owner gave us instructions. Let's say more, the gate leading to the cell where the pits lay was open, offering access to any birdwatcher who wants to see the bird. Parking in a modest and sleepy village can be very difficult, especially when you are hoping to park at high speed, so our company with paula decided to park in the parking lot of the ferris wheel hotel, which, to our delight, was then closed. It was still raining, but it wasn't as heavy as it had been before, so we took the precious time to put on our waterproof clothes and went looking for the bird. We crossed an alleyway and software a winding dirt path skirted a small electrical substation on the left and came to a metal gate. To my virtual horror, the gate was padlocked, the bird was practically on the back end, and there seemed to be no way to reach the pits. However, how did the other birders get access to this, i wondered? There may be another way. We're back on any tracks we can find,
porn tube and chose a clear connection with only adjacent fields. Maybe that's what i thought. The rain continued to fall, and gender may have wisely decided to get into the car level with marley and eddie. A little disappointed with the locked gate, however, otherwise feeling defiant, i trudged along the muddy edge of what looked like a cabbage field, again what i hoped would be an access point in the left corner of the field, but the hassle i found was a barbed-wire fence. At the same time, i managed to get a fairly good look at almost all the pools from the points, and i examined it very positively, but all i could find was a small flock of eurasian pigeons, a scattering of northern shovels and a huge number of black-headed gulls. As i suspected, the american wigeon, of course, lived in the nearest pool. The rain had subsided more and more, but i was beginning to feel miserable as i took off my gloves to evaluate my phone, just as other people were trying to connect to the pits on the wheels of the van. The instructions provided by the local birdwatching place will be pretty clear, but obviously didn't count on the fact that the gate would be locked. It was here that i thought about how to implement something that i usually never thought about. Returning to the gate, i noticed a wooden fence on the side that ran through a fairly thick hedge. "I'm able to climb up here" I said aloud, hoping no one else would hear. But still, almost every disturbing contact in my head rang. Culturally, i've been conditioned to view a locked door or gate as the clearest and most visible sign telling me, " stay away! - And i seriously dreamed of turning around and giving up. But under these circumstances, my hunting instinct managed to overcome the cultural conditioning. My prize was on the back corner, and at the end of an hour of adventure, and getting soaked through, nothing needed me to claim my reward. I raised the scope over my shawl collars and propped it up as i clumsily climbed over the fence. I sat down on the plot of land and scanned the field frantically, half expecting the angry farmer who was arranging them to rush at me with a gun. Then i turned around, again half expecting any angry local to charge at me, but despite the alarm bells ringing in my head, much else remained calm and peaceful. Gathering up my scope, i quickly crossed the field, trying to avoid the cow dung, and headed for the pond where i suspected the bird was. Setting up the scope, i examined the pool and, unsurprisingly, found a myriad of eurasian wigeons. The bird i was looking for was a female, and it seemed like it could just really be mistaken for its eurasian cousin. I looked around the pool 5 times, checking almost every single bird. Regularly my mind screamed: "here it is! "Solely in order to immediately follow the “yes, this is the eurasian vigeon". Looking to the right, back to the first pool, i checked the number of birds that were resting on the beach, some of the movies were clearly eurasian teals, others were no less clearly eurasian wigeons, there were also a few mallards, but there was one bird, it was present in a half-sleep, which looked extremely comfortable. The bird was dozing nearby with a female eurasian pigeon, which turned out to be relevant to the word. She turned her head slightly, and in our time, not a single hesitation is detected. While she was looking around the pool, i noticed a gray head and a distinctive dark eye patch, typical of female american pigeons. What was fantastic was to add a local rarity to the suggested list of the year, but it was also better to have the option that i was looking at the same person i had seen a year earlier. I allowed myself a moment to reflect on the state in which she had spent the previous year. I felt that it was very unlikely that she had made the transatlantic journey, instead i felt that it was most possible that the page had completely followed the eurasian vigeons to northern europe, and later simply followed the wards here as soon as the cold weather set in. Satisfied with my reward, i now found time to look around and decide on the reason why the gate was locked. A distant herd of oxen crowded around the trough, happily feeding, but the most famous of which looked up from it and scrupulously looked at me. He barked at his companions, most likely to inform them of my presence. Without further ado, i packed up my scope and instantly strode back to the gate, half expecting to be chased by an angry bull. A quick glance back, however, shows that the roaring beast has decided to walk in the opposite direction, apparently satisfied with the problems that i have left neither the farmer nor any threat. Back in the car, i started thinking about the trip to clifton, although my mind would have been cleared by the fact that the birds had reportedly flown over the arctic circle around 11 a.M. True, the battered condition of paula and the three dogs, combined with the statement that meal time was approaching, meant that the structure was the most attractive idea for the next port of call, which is why we left grimley cold, wet, but happy with everything that the trip was a success, and despite the fact that i almost turned around and gave up. Where are the pits for wagon wheels? How do birds mate? Plunge into the scheme or register yourself and post messages through the hubpages network account. The reviews exclude html, but the urls will get hyperlinks. Comments are not specialized for promoting your articles or other sites. Your reports are well written and very well illustrated. I'm not aware of the whole area, although we visit family in worcester on a regular basis.